You'll be Spain and I'll be Romano
by yolapeoples
Summary: Inspired by the “I’ll be Germany and You’ll be Italy” strips. Spain has a marvelous idea, Romano doesn’t find it so marvelous and France and Prussia have a grand old time. T for language. Beware the crack!


**You'll be Spain and I'll be Romano  
**A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfic  
By Yolapeoples

**Summary: Inspired by the "I'll be Germany and You'll be Italy" strips. Spain has a marvelous idea, Romano doesn't find it so marvelous and France and Prussia have a grand old time.  
**Characters: Spain, Romano, France, Prussia, Germany, Italy. Cameo Switzerland and Austria. Spamano, GerIta if you squint, turn your head sideways and say "Bloody Mary" three times.  
Because: The idea was far too great to pass up.  
A/n: Written really quickly. Not check over even once. Brace yourselves for the crack!

* * *

"But Lovi~, it'd be fun!" said Spain, trying his best to convince the less than amused looking Italian in front of him.

And Romano was having none of it, "No. Dammit, Spain, where the hell do you come up with these things?"

Spain paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before a light bulb popped up next to his head, "Your brother did it with Germany!"

No, Romano was not amused. At the mention of a certain German nation in the same sentence as "your brother", his eyebrows immediately furrowed in irritation.

"The answer is no, Spain. I will not, nor will I ever, pretend to be YOU of all people for a day while you pretend to be me." Romano ranted angrily, refusing to look at the Spaniard, "No way. No way in hell!"

"What if I don't let you have any tomatoes until you agree, Lovi~?"

No one should be damn able to sound so cheerful with that kind of threat.

Romano turned to Spain aghast, "You wouldn't!"

Spain only smiled at him peacefully. Romano looked away again.

"You bastard!"

* * *

"This is not going to work." deadpanned Romano almost instantly as he wandered back into Spain's living room, wearing some of Spain's clothes.

"Yes it will, Lovi~!" called Spain from down the hall. Romano glared at nothing in particular, the Spaniard not being in the room and him being to lazy to go find him. His hair was done up to look like Spain's; he had even done his best to hide his curl and hadn't that been an _adventure_.

"Ta-dah!" announced Spain before bursting into the room, looking every bit like a slightly too tall, slightly too muscular, slightly too tan and _far_ too smiley Romano. The real Romano could only stare in modest horror before making a fist in determination.

"For the tomatoes." he repeated to himself mentally as Spain looked him over.

"You look just like me, Lovi~!" laughed Spain before fixing on Romano's face, that almost instantly heated up at the scrutiny, "Except for your expression. You have to smile more if you want to be me, Lovi~!" Spain poked his cheek playfully.

"Who would ever want to be you, bastard?!" shouted Romano, trying to put some distance between them when all of a sudden the front door opened without warning.

"Oh my." said France as he entered the scene, being far too France to knock, "What do we have here?"

Spain smiled and Romano wished he could slam his head into the wall.

Why, just why?

France, not taking his eyes off the strange sight in front of him, took out his cell phone, flipped it open and pressed a number before putting it up to his ear.

"Oui, Prussie? Uh-huh. You need to get down here _right now_."

Oh, _Santidio_, why?

* * *

And that was how Lovino Vargas found himself in Spain's clothing, smushed between the countries of France and Prussia on Spain's couch, both of which were enjoying the fact that their chances of molesting the southern half of Italy had greatly increased far too much.

And Spain just sat there, like the bastard he was, letting them do it too. It should have helped that Spain was trying to glare at France and Prussia to act like Romano, but it didn't. It really didn't when a certain French hand found its way into his shirt and a certain Prussian hand was MIA.

But he was supposed to act like Spain, and therefore needed to act like the completely oblivious and happy bastard Spain was. Dammit, his face hurt from all this smiling. Romano vaguely wondered how Spain managed to keep it up so much.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly as France and Prussia both made idle conversation with Romano, their grins looking far too smug when Romano had to answer with a smile on his face and in his voice.

At some point, perhaps when France started messing with his belt, Romano started to feel far too uncomfortable to not let it show anymore. His Spain-smile began to shift uneasily on his face as his eyes darted back and forth to Prussia, to Spain, to France and then back to Spain.

Finally noticing something for once in his life, Spain looked concerned for a moment before steering his glare towards his two friends.

"Get away from Spain, you bastards!" he shouted at them, trying to look brave but failing miserably in true Romano fashion. Was that really what he looked like? Romano thought idly.

France and Prussia smirked at each other and then back at Spain who made an undignified "meep" sound – Romano inwardly protested that he did _not_ make such a stupid noise ever! –, before speaking, finishing each other's sentences.

"Well, Romano…" Prussia dragged out the last syllable out far too long.

"…If you wanted to join us, _mon cher_,…" France purred. He frickin' purred!

"…you could have just asked." Prussia sent Spain a very obvious wink as France raised an eyebrow seductively.

Spain looked at his friends in confusion, but Romano couldn't find anything confusing about the situation.

"SAVE ME, YOU BASTARD!" was what he wanted to cry out. Unfortunately, his voice died in his throat.

"Oh well. Suit yourself!" said France before the two turned back towards Romano.

And that was where he put his foot down, tomatoes or no tomatoes.

* * *

Five minutes later, Spain stood in the hallway, wondering what the hell just happened, as Romano turned back towards him, curl sticking out again rebelliously, breathing hard. Spain's conquistador clothes hanging loosely on his body; Spain eyed the battle ax rather warily.

When Spain said nothing, continuing to stare at the weapon, Romano spoke rapidly, trying to defend himself, "It was…_completely_ in character!"

They looked at each other for a moment before Spain broke down in laughter.

"Don't laugh, you bastard!" yelled Romano in alarm, trying to wave the ax around but failing as it was way too heavy, "Those perverts were trying to molest me, dammit!"

Spain sobered up and looked at him with an amused smile, sidling up to him and wrapping his arms around the Italian's waist, resting his chin on Romano's shoulder.

"H-Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" tried Romano, finding himself not so willing to struggle.

Spain just kept smiling.

* * *

"What?!" Germany yelled into the phone. Italy looked over with a confused "Ve~?"

The German tried his best not to explode, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers while still cradling the phone with his other hand.

"I don't care if you're stuck in the middle of France with no way of getting home even if there is a supposed crazy Italian after you. Just figure it the hell out by yourself."

"But West!!" Germany hung up the phone and looked at Italy with a sigh.

Italy just smiled and laughed in understanding, "I have an older brother too~!"

* * *

"You know, Lovi," said Spain, lifting his head up from the Italian's shoulder to glance at him sidelong, his tone making Romano want to shiver, "You should really dress in my clothes more often."

Romano looked at him, "Horny bastard."

His protests didn't stop him from kissing back.

* * *

Prussia hung up his cell phone, annoyed, "How could West leave the Awesome Me hanging?! Especially when I'm stuck in the middle of frickin' France!"

A branch cracked behind them, making both of them jump.

France turned to Prussia, horrified, "_Prussie_, I don't think we're in France anymore…"

Austria sniffed in disdain as the gunfire interrupted his piano playing.

…**Fin.**

* * *

A/n: What is this crack? What _is_ this _crack_?! Written in about half an hour after two hours of snow shoveling, an hour of last minute Christmas shopping and an hour of not doing my homework when I should have been. But it was worth it.

By the way, Prussia is speed dial 2 on France's phone only because 1 was automatically voicemail. Spain is speed dial 3 and England is speed dial 4. (England tried to make his number restricted; it didn't work.)

_Prussie_ is Prussia in French. Since my head-canon has him calling England _Angleterre_ and Spain _Espagne_, it only seems fair that he would call Prussia that. It looks so odd without the article though; in retrospect, I guess Prussia really wouldn't mind being called "The Prussia".

Spamano part inserted at the last second because it's being floating around in my head way too long. Please ignore it if you don't like the pairing! (And go buy your soul back from the Devil! … Jk)

Who wants to see Romano in Spain's matador costume? *shot multiple times* And I did not just imagine France and Prussia dressed like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz… I have a death wish, I swear….

Might write this over later. Please review!! (Reviews allow me to go buy more crack.)


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